1 O Lord of Hosts, my King and God,
How highly blest are they,
Who in thy temple always dwell,
And there thy praise display!
2 Thrice happy they, whose choice has thee
Their sure protection made;
Who long to tread the sacred ways
That to thy dwelling lead!
3 Who pass through parch'd and thirsty vales,
Yet no refreshment want:
Their pools are fill'd with rain, which thou
At their Request dost grant.
4 Thus they proceed from strength to strength,
And still approach more near;
Till all on Sion's holy mount
Before their God appear.
|First Line:||O Lord of Hosts, my King and God|